


The Dark Lord Gets Coffee (Operation Starbucks)

by LauraDoloresIssum



Category: Bright (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Funny, Short, villains out shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-20 04:59:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13710351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LauraDoloresIssum/pseuds/LauraDoloresIssum
Summary: All the Dark Lord wanted on this visit to Earth was to lay low and try coffee. But an unwanted bodyguard in the form of battlefield legend Temawar the Steel-Heart and too many options at the Starbucks counter makes things harder for him.





	The Dark Lord Gets Coffee (Operation Starbucks)

It was Los Angeles in March of 2019, and all the Dark Lord wanted when he walked into the Starbucks was to see what coffee tasted like. Temawar had insisted on dogging him the whole way, every inch an obvious bodyguard despite a pair of ugly blue sweatpants and a knit sweater from Land’s End. They had already drawn plenty of glances on the bus; a polite elf in non-designer clothes and a seven-foot, unaccountably cat-footed orc were already anomalies in and of themselves, but traveling together they were a circus. Temawar’s war paint and smooth dark green-gray complexion only added to the looks of bewilderment. The only benefit was that her obvious danger completely eclipsed the quiet, deeper danger that reflected out of the Dark Lord’s black eyes when he raised his sunglasses to check the route map. So in that way, he was quite safe from unwanted attention.

Temawar’s air of smoldering menace hit the room like a shockwave as they walked inside. Her coolly murderous gaze pounced left and right upon whatever unfortunate patrons happened to be sitting too close to where the Dark Lord walked. He did his best to act completely unconnected to the whirlwind of death loping two steps behind him, and walked up to the counter. He blinked as he surveyed the menu. What did half this house slang mean? He had seen coffee served in restaurants, and the options were coffee, regular or decaf. The line had mysteriously evaporated as they had entered, so he had no time to decode it.

“C-can I help you?” Henry kept his eyes locked on the ageless and ambiguously gendered elf in front of him. They were wearing a plain green t-shirt and grey jeans, and their face was completely unreadable. He wasn’t sure if they were with the huge foreign-looking orc behind them or if they were just blissfully unaware of her existence. There was something wrong about them, something _off_ , although you had to get real close to notice. Maybe it was how they gripped the counter, or the way they had strode in like an actor working from a half-remembered script. They hadn’t bothered to remove their oval sunglasses, and for some reason that struck Henry as odd, even though people came in wearing sunglasses every day. When they spoke, it was without trace of an Elvish accent or elvish front teeth.

“If you would be so kind, friend. Can I… just get coffee?”

“What kind of coffee…” he hesitated painfully, “friend?” Elves came in sometimes, to sit in gorgeous clusters like arrangements of exotic flowers and give disparaging looks to anyone who asked them to push their chairs in. He was taking Elvish-language classes in college, and he had learned quickly that attempting to speak to them in anything other than English, no matter how respectfully, earned a look on the “freeze you solid” part of the chilly dial. Addressing one as “friend” was an unknown level of danger.

They brushed a thick braid of grayish-blue hair out of the way. “I don’t know. I’ve never been in a Starbucks before.” A faint hint of bewilderment crept into their tone. “I was just hoping to try some coffee.”

Henry entertained the brief theory that the two were aliens.

“Well, how about I just get you something simple, um,” he floundered again on _sir_ versus _madam_ , “ _silwen_ , and call you when it comes up?” He winced as the neuter (the basic form of most words in Elvish were ungendered) came out of his mouth in syllables choppy enough to overturn a boat. The elf smirked, and oddly, he felt on slightly firmer ground. It also solved the mystery of their pointed center teeth. They hadn’t vanished, just decided to reorganize closer to the eyeteeth for increased commitment to their core values.

The Dark Lord turned. “Josie? Do you want anything?”

“ _It smells like burned spice and ashes_ ,” she said in ancient Orcish. “ _I’d prefer not to drink that_.”

“They have food too,” he continued in English, to be polite. “Pastries and things.”

“ _No, thank you, Milord_.”

“Just that then, thank you,” the Dark Lord said to Henry. “Do I pay for the newspapers?”

Henry hesitated. “Just take them, dude.” He thought if this conversation went on for much longer he would have a heart attack.

They shelled out the correct amount of cash with exact change, but with a slow precision that suggested they weren’t too familiar with American money. With the same precision, they put exactly fifteen percent in the Plexiglas tip box. Henry slid the receipt across the counter without being brave enough to ask what name should be put on the order, and scurried away to make a tall black Pike Place with the vague feeling of having escaped some kind of awful trap.

The Dark Lord snagged a set of newspapers from the display, and they took a seat away from the window, where they could see all the exits. He started scanning the headlines.

“ _I respect your loyalty, General Steel-Heart_ ,” he said to Temawar, using her formal honor name. “ _But look at this place. I’m in no danger here._ ”

Temawar swept her gaze over the quietly terrified patrons in case one of them was hiding a shotgun or perhaps a large sword in their paper cups. The place had partly emptied out during the brief conversation with the bartender. A small family of orcs came in, and gave Temawar’s outfit insulting glances as they passed. She half-rose with her eyes locked on them, ready to throw down. They ignored the ancient challenge as though it didn’t exist and passed by without a second glance. After a moment, Temawar sat back. “ _The world has changed, Milord. And I don’t just mean the technology. I consider it my blooded duty to protect you, even from dangers you might not be considering_.”

The Dark Lord allowed himself a small smile. “ _People never change. They just take different forms, like chimera heads. All the same beast._ ”

“ _You can’t even order a coffee_ ,” said Temawar flatly. Living in their own pocket dimension for two millennia had somewhat eroded the inner council’s hierarchy. “ _My lord_.”

“ _That’s the point of these research trips. Besides, how many strategic maneuvers would I need that skill for? You don’t need to order coffee to claim the building._ ”

“Ummm. Josy?”

Temawar’s eyes snapped to the raised section of the bar. There was a single white paper cup sitting there. The bartender scuttled away.

“ _You’re going to make me fetch that, aren’t you, Milord_.”

He continued reading the newspaper with a certain lack of reaction that clearly said, _I am the Dark Lord and you insisted on coming._

Her back had already been rod-straight, but she appeared to find a few extra centimeters of spine somewhere. She crossed the room with her eyes fixed straight ahead and set the hot cup down in front of him with utmost dignity. He took the lid off and fanned the fumes suspiciously his way, as though investigating an unknown chemical substance.

“ _It smells like metal and ashes_ ,” the Dark Lord said after a moment. He tentatively tasted some, froze, and quietly spit it back out.

Temawar gave the faintest, grim smile. “ _I’m told it’s an acquired taste, like wine. And addictive, after a while_.”

His expression seemed to indicate he thought that explained a lot. Wordlessly, he pushed the lid on and stowed the newspapers under his arm. Temawar rose with him, her face set as though on parade. They left without a second thought about who was staring at them. The Dark Lord dumped the Pike Place into a trash can on the way to the bus stop.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, y'all. Comments, corrections, etc. below. You know the drill.
> 
> AU/headcanon elements for anyone who's curious:  
> The Dark Lord & minions retreated to a pocket dimension after his defeat on Earth, formed their own egalitarian society, and eventually evolved along slightly different lines than ordinary races in Bright, therefore the differences mentioned in the text. For example, orcs from this dimension are lighter and very speedy, elves have an emphasis on subtlety and stealth attacks similar to drow culture, humans are rapidly heading toward cyberpunk, etc. However, all of Earth is identical to canon depiction.
> 
> Dark Lord might have more direct magic powers, haven't decided yet and wasn't relevant for this silly story. I do like imagining him as a mild-mannered, pragmatic villain, who's definitely gonna take over the world but doesn't plan be an asshole about it. Picturing someone named the Dark Lord who's just a generic bad guy out of a paint-by-numbers Marvel movie isn't half as interesting as a Dark Lord who rocks that red-and-black aesthetic and is more interested in building a world than burning it down. New Age of Magic coming through, you're gonna love it, I got so many changes planned...


End file.
